


Oddity

by karyal



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explosions, Gen, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has a Heart, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Portals, Rating May Change, Tim Drake Needs a Break, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Not Okay, because everyone needs one, but probably communicates about as much as a rock, everyone is so done with traveling the multiverse, he's trying, i will force everyone to take a vacation, no beta we die like robins, sibling bonding adventures, these guys are siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karyal/pseuds/karyal
Summary: Ever since Tim brought Bruce back from the timestream, he’s drawn up walls to prevent himself from ever being hurt again. When a new case finds its way into Tim’s hands, he’s determined to solve it alone. After all, that's how he's been doing things lately, and after losing the mantle of Robin, he’s been closing more than ever – and definitely NOT because he thinks he still has something left to prove to his family.But when the case appears to be more problematic than it first appears, well… he might have no choice but to work with his family again.(rated mature for language and some violence)
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Everyone, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 47
Kudos: 303





	1. Tim

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first time posting on AO3, so I hope this goes well. Honestly I just really wanted to write something, so if this goes well, I might continue with it. I might not. We'll see.
> 
> I know some stuff about the Batfamily, but I've mostly watched movies/DC tv shows and read fanfic, so that's where most of my knowledge comes from. I am trying to start reading DC's actual comic books, but have no idea where to start, so recommendations are nice. If there's anything here that doesn't really line up with what you might know, I do apologize -- and I would love to hear what I can improve on! Constructive criticism and feedback is always welcomed :)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Please do not post this work anywhere else. I do not own any of DC's characters. I will have some original characters coming later, though!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/21: Hey guys! If you're coming back to this, awesome! Glad to see you guys stopping by. I've added some more stuff to this chapter today since I had more time! -Karyal

Tim began his day like he usually did – tired. Well, tired might be an understatement, considering he couldn’t focus on any singular object until he finally managed to get a decent cup of coffee in his system.

It wasn’t that he was _addicted_ to coffee, it was just that it helped him stay functioning. When one is closing cases on their own, plus managing a multimillion-dollar company, coffee becomes essential.

And sure, if the day blurred a little as it wore on, and he chugged another couple of cups of coffee before lunch, and then before dinner, well – that wasn’t anyone’s problem but his own. Or so he likes to tell himself. He isn’t oblivious to Tam’s concerned looks as she hands over paperwork at the end of each day.

Tim had no idea what was inside. What had happened during the day’s meetings, again?

Budget. Right.

Shaking his head, Tim headed home, squinting up at the sky. The forecast indicated rain for the evening, which, considering Tim is missing a spleen, is not ideal. Still, that's part of the part of the job. Besides, he's fine. He's _fine_. There's no need to be worried, or to let anyone else in the family know. Not that they'd care, anyway.

Right now, he wishes he’d paid a bit more attention to the weather and the dangers it poses to an immunocompromised vigilante just trying to do a stakeout.

Problem number one: stakeouts involve staying in one place. And being the genius he is, Tim forgot all about the weather forecast. Meaning he’s stuck in the rain.

Problem number two: he’s quickly learning that this stakeout is _not_ going how he planned.

Two gangs were supposed to make a deal tonight. From the intel Tim has, it’s likely weapons or a turf negotiation, seeing as the smaller gang, Indigo, is trying to edge out the larger gang, Bleeding Edge. Despite their sizes, they’re both relatively new gangs. Tim also knows he’s probably not the only one digging into them – Indigo somehow thought it was a brilliant idea to name themselves after their drug, which is beginning to circulate into the Bowery.

Safe to say, Tim is not in the mood to deal with Jason right now. They’re not… friends, per say, but they’re not actively fighting with each other. Dealing with Jason might not be the best given his miserable, soggy state, but Tim would take him over dealing with the rest of the Bats. Jason's far more likely to get into a fight rather than talk about emotions, and Tim cannot handle having his emotions run over by a herd of elephants.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim readjusts his gear and decides to move in closer, counting on the gangs’ inexperience and his stealth to keep him hidden. The few people he’s seen enter all seem to be carrying themselves with the air of someone about to make a deal. He works at WE, he knows a bit what that looks like.

Packing up his gear, Tim grapples to the next rooftop, timing his landing deliberately to account for the downpour that seems to not be letting up anytime soon. He pivots his foot as he stands up, darting back to the edge, where there's a sizeable gap between the top of the roof and the nearest window. He can't very well smash one of the windows in.

Plan B it is, then. Tim slips the cover off of the vent on top of the warehouse, hoping that there's no obstacle in the vent system that could potentially injure him. Swinging one leg over the edge of the vent, he sweeps his gaze over the area for one final check before he slides all the way in. The vent, thankfully, is large enough for him to fit through easily, and he's deposited directly onto the upper rafters of the building.

Tim curls his fingers around the vertical support of one of the rafters, grounding himself as he surveys the scene below. He’s got a direct view into the warehouse, where there are only six gang members. Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarm bells begin to ring. Deals don't usually involve just six gang members in total. It's obvious that one member of each gang is part of the gang's leadership, whereas the other four are just muscle. At least that matches up with the numbers, as most gangs have enough common sense not to send their top guys to a small meeting where anything could go down. Young gangs, like the two below, also happen to be especially volatile.

Tim has to give them some credit for thinking ahead. Still, that’s not going to give them much of an advantage when he busts the deal. Sure, this isn't much of a stakeout anymore, especially considering that there's nothing enormous going down here that requires more surveillance. Tim just needs to figure out what's going on, break the deal up, and go home so he can get warm.

_Home._

Tim ignores the word that has the audacity to flit through his mind while he’s in costume. He can’t afford to dwell on the fact that he hasn’t been back to the Manor in months, and is constantly evading the Bats and their invasive questions as to why he hasn’t been to a family dinner in quite some time.

Nope. Not going there.

Turning his attention to the gangs below, Tim tilts his head to one side as he tries to get a read on what is going down. There are certainly odd-shaped crates in the building, and based on the way the gangs are arguing, Tim is now almost positive that this is an arms deal. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Arms deals are much easier to deal with than a turf war.

He’s so focused on the deal going down and trying to ignore the traitorous thoughts in his head that he misses the entrance of another Bat.

Problem number three: Tim may be emotionally compromised to the point where he isn’t paying attention to his surroundings like he should (not that he’d admit that out loud to anyone else and show just how weak he is as of late).

Problem number four: Jason scares him half to death.

Problem five: Tim is still wet.

He opens his mouth to yelp in surprise and simultaneously adjusts his right foot to the side when he realizes he’s _slipping off the rafter._ He inhales, his balance already gone, when a hand grips his cape firmly and hauls him back sharply. A warning hand is placed over his nose and lips, indicating that he needs to shut up, and fast.

Jason manages to get him stabilized on the rafter before he leans back, casually, one elbow on the angled beam that runs up and away from Tim. Underneath the hood, he’s probably smirking at the fact that he’s managed to catch Tim off guard.

Something slithers in the pit of his stomach just thinking about that. He tries hard to shake the feeling of inadequacy off, but it’s difficult when he’s face to face with his hero. His Robin. The same person who tried to kill him.

He’s definitely emotionally compromised by this point. Again, not that he would let anyone know that. Jason might be safer, but Tim keeps his emotions in check and forces his face into a neutral position.

“So, Replacement, ya here for the weapons deal too?” Jason drawls, but his voice low as he keeps an eye on the gang members to make sure they weren’t detected. 

From such a close distance, Tim can see Jason's fingers twitch toward the gun on his hip. Tim hopes that Jason isn't feeling particularly affected by the Lazarus Pit today. Even if he isn't, Tim starts looking for all possible exit routes, both plotting for an effective takedown and an escape route if Jason feels like fighting, or worse, talking.

It takes another few beats for Tim to realize he hasn't answered Jason, and he gives a halfhearted nod.

Jason must have seen it, because Tim feels Jason's gaze boring into his skull. After another moment, he grumbles, clicking his teeth together in a harsh noise that is further distorted by the hood. “Silent treatment today, I guess. Well, just don’t drag me down with ya into your problems. I’m here because of the drug. I won’t get in your way, I just need some information out of Indigo’s head guy here. Been trying to tack ‘em down for ages. Cool?”

Tim's stomach drops from out of his body. Surely Jason isn't attempting to pull the case out from under him? Tim thought it was a weapons deal, but he's doubling back on that decision, wondering if there's a drug deal going down. If it is, Tim is wrong. Again. And Tim can't afford to be wrong. He can't bear the thought of having to note that in his case files, even if Tim isn't sure the rest of the Bats read them anymore. Certainly not Dick or Damian, and Tim tries not to think about Bruce altogether.

At that, Tim shifts his gaze to Jason, giving him a glare. "This is my case, Hood. You trying to take it away from me?"

It comes out harsher than he intended, and Jason makes like he's narrowing his eyes behind the helmet. The only thing that gives him away is the crossing of his arms over his chest, which _would_ be accompanied with a glare, but seeing as Tim can't see that, he chooses to act like Jason isn't acting hostile.

"The hell, kid? I just told ya I'm here to talk to the head guy. You have beef with me or somethin? 'Cause I've been nothing but civil, and even though I know you ain't talking to the big Bat right now, I'd like ta not get on his bad side for a mere drug deal."

Tim tries so hard not to let this affect him, but he can't help the slackening of his mouth and the slight backwards shift of his weight. He's in no mood to get into a fight with Jason in the middle of a deal.

Jason clearly notices, because he hisses and turns away. "Sensitive much?"

Tim's hands begin to shake, and he closes his eyes, letting out a breath of air. He's cold, miserable, and it looks like Jason is in the mood to get on his bad side tonight. He's not sure he's awake enough to handle this. Every beat of his heart roars louder in his ears, and he feels his lower lip begin to tremble. He clenches his jaw and tries to stop it. He's already begun to slip with just a few words from Jason, but he can't let his mask shatter completely. There is no reason to be nervous tonight, he decides. He'll close this case, he'll tell Jason to stay behind while he gets the guys so he doesn't have to admit that he needed to team up with another Bat for a mere arms deal. There is nothing to fear.

That is, until he hears Jason let out a string of curses under his breath. “Those aren’t regular guns.”

Tim turns to see that Jason’s right. They are not regular guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: don't start writing a story, don't start writing a story  
> Also me: starts writing a story  
> Me: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, YOU ALREADY HAVE A TON OF WORK  
> Also me: hehe


	2. Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason isn't going to stay quiet on this debacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is a rather short chapter but I wanted to get something out before the end of the year. I apparently like to update as I go, so I might come back and add some stuff to this chapter (bad habits, I know, but I will try to restrain myself from doing this too much).
> 
> If you're still reading this, thank you so much for your support! I will warn you that I have no set update schedule. I am writing this as I go (oops) so I hope maybe at some point I can get onto a regular update schedule.
> 
> I have also changed the rating of this work to mature. I don't plan to have anything super graphic. I changed it mostly for Jason's swearing, some fight scenes, and mentions of drugs. 
> 
> That being said, I will leave a trigger warning here for mention of drugs. Please take care of yourselves, and let me know if there's anything I can work on!

Jason’s not been having a great day so far.

He can hardly think straight on his feet, having been awake for almost a full day straight, trying to track the source of a new strain of drug. Its chemical makeup is a lot like heroin, but it’s… not heroin. It’s much more deadly. The weird part is that within hours of taking it, people are dropping dead, a black substance oozing from their face and hands.

Needless to say, it’s not a pretty sight. Add that to the fact that the majority of the deaths are teenagers. Jason is out for blood.

He’s on rocky ground right now with the Bats – in that awkward place where he’s occasionally allowed to come in contact with them, but at the same time is shut out. He tells himself that he’s fine on his own, that he’s better off alone.

Maybe he’s just sad because he _thought_ he and the Replacement were on better terms these days, but it appears that is not the case. For whatever reason, the little bird decided to forgive him after he almost killed him, twice. But now? He’s almost completely shut off from the family after the entire fiasco of Bruce being gone.

Jason only knows about it because he ran into the bird just after Bruce came back, still reeling from the pain of seeing him fresh from the timeline. Jason didn’t necessarily know what to do, so he sat there like a loser, trying and failing to say something that would make his… coworker feel better. Hell, he can’t even call the Replacement by his real name.

It’s weird to call him a brother, since they were never really close like that. Sure, Replacement used to follow him around, but that was in the Before. All Jason knows now is the After, with looks filled with hatred and sighs of disappointment when Jason doesn’t live up to the Bats’ standards. 

Screw them. He doesn’t need them.

It’s with this renewed vigor and his fury tinging his vision green that he throws every ounce of effort into the drug case. If he finds another dead teenager because of this _Indigo_ , all hell will break loose, and Jason fully intends to let it run its course.

His horrible day finally gets a bit better when he passes some of the working girls on the street, who quietly pull him aside and let him know about the deal going down at one of the warehouses tonight. They don’t tell him when or where, just that the warehouses have a deal. They’re understandably concerned – Indigo is circulating through the Bowery faster than any drug ever has, and it’s killing kids at an alarming rate.

So, the deal is probably an arms deal, considering that Indigo has a monopoly on their supply and is likely looking to use that to their advantage. Jason doesn’t care who the other gang is, as long as he can grab Indigo’s guy and force some information out of him, or better yet, get a clear way to shut down the operation.

Maybe his day won’t be so bad.

…

Jason is so, so wrong.

He _thought_ it couldn’t get any worse, then he just has to run into the Replacement in the last warehouse he checked for the deal. He’s almost alarmed with how fast he can sneak up on the Replacement without him noticing. It’s not until he almost falls off the rafters that Jason realizes that something is wrong.

Something is so horribly wrong. The Replacement’s eyes droop rather than focus on him. The change is subtle, but Jason can also tell that his breathing is slightly staggered, long after he’s regained his stability and balance on the rafter. His responses are slow, and even the bite to his voice when he replies to Jason’s initial question about the arms deal doesn’t reassure him.

Jason resolves to get the information they need, then sit down in a painful discussion to see if Jason can’t help the kid out a bit. Maybe get him to sleep. Sue his big brother instincts, but Jason can only imagine what it’s like to go several days without sleeping. It’s been 24 hours for him and he’s ready to sleep for a week.

Still, Jason can’t help but respond with hostility when the Replacement accuses him of trying to steal his case. Jason is angry and saddened by what he sees on the streets, and he can’t stop the surge of green that rises.

Damn. He’d really been trying lately.

He doesn’t stop himself as he opens his mouth. “The hell, kid? I just told ya I'm here to talk to the head guy. You have beef with me or somethin? 'Cause I've been nothing but civil, and even though I know you ain't talking to the big Bat right now, I'd like ta not get on his bad side for a mere drug deal."

The Replacement visibly sags. Jason bites back the concern that rises in his throat and threatens to choke him. He’s a ticking time bomb, and he only hopes that he doesn’t let it out by attacking the person he’s currently worrying about.

 _Abort,_ his mind says. _Focus on the mission. Talk to the kid after. Also, stop being so vulnerable in the field. It won’t help right now._

“Sensitive much?” Jason spits out, attempting to cover his emotions by turning away and redirecting Replacement’s focus onto his anger. It’s not fair to him, Jason knows, but he’s confused, and if Jason can’t even help himself right now, how could he help the kid out?

Jason forces himself to focus on the deal at hand. It’s obviously a drug for weapons deal at this point, which puts them into a tight spot. Neither of them should be on the streets, but arms deals are… tricky at best. Too many stray bullets.

It’s because he’s focusing on maintaining a steel façade that he almost misses the problem.

“Those aren’t regular guns,” Jason curses.

Beside him, the Replacement perks up, and Jason can feel him immediately tense when he realizes that Jason is right. Those aren’t regular guns.

“I don’t think guns are supposed to be that color or _glow_ ,” the Replacement states.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jason grunts out. Instead of a solid stock or barrel, there are cutouts pulsing with an eerie blood glow.

“What do you think? New energy weapons of some kind?”

Jason shrugs. “Whatever the hell those are, they aren’t something we want on the streets, Bowery or not. You in to bash a couple of people?”

“Wait, Jason, you can’t just go in there blind,” Tim grabs his arm.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Six people, kid. I have eyes. This stuff hits the street, we’re in trouble. I came for the drugs, but like hell I’m gonna let this slide.”

Inhaling, Jason lets a deep breath out of his nose. Emotions are certainly running high, but he can’t afford to botch this deal. If Jason can’t get Indigo under control, and soon, the deaths will spiral out of hand.

Beside him, Tim seems _much_ more awake. In fact, he’s almost vibrating with anger.

“Are you stealing my case? You said you were just here for the drug deal!”

This is the second accusation the kid’s made about Jason stealing his case. He files that away for later, trying not to let his concern overwhelm him when he needs to keep a level head.

It hits Jason a second too late. By the time he’s slapped a warning hand over the kid’s mouth, the thugs have heard his less than quiet words. They’ve obviously looked up and taken note of his red helmet and the gun he must have taken out of his holster during their argument. Damn. He needs to cool his jets, and fast.

“Well, kid? You coming or what?” Jason tosses out over his shoulder as he holsters his gun and scoots toward the edge of the rafter.

He hears a grunt of frustration above him as he goes weightless, tucking his body into a roll at the bottom and immediately going for the kneecaps of the two guys closest to him. He has guns, but he’s in desperate need of something to be angry at other than himself for all of the mistakes he made.

He owes a huge debt to the Replacement for forgiving him. The least he can do is help the kid out with a case.


	3. Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's had a long day. Week. Month. Whatever. He can certainly complete a routine takedown of a weapons deal.
> 
> Until he can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Hope you guys like this update :) Please let me know if there are any grammatical/spelling mistakes and I will make sure to fix them.

Tim has botched his landing.

That’s the first thing that hits him when he lands on the ground. He can’t say for certain what he was thinking about as he landed, but he certainly wasn’t looking.

 _Never land on the ground without looking down first,_ says a voice in the back of his head.

Tim tries to ignore the fact that it sounds like Bruce.

He doesn’t have much time to gauge just how bad his sprained ankle is before one of the thugs is grabbing at him. Extending his bo, he slams the weapon over the head of the guy. When he pivots his injured foot, pain lances up his leg and makes his right knee buckle. Stumbling, he strikes his bo against the ground and attempts to lever himself back up.

The moment it takes him to stabilize is enough for another gang member strike him directly across the jaw. Tim reels back in shock, the pulsing in his jaw another lovely addition to the pain that is constantly coursing through his body.

Somewhere, Tim distantly registers that Jason should have been able to take out at least three guys by now. With this in mind, Tim shifts his weight onto the bo, snapping his left leg up to kick his assailant in the kneecap. He would have gone higher, but with his weakened leg, he can only lift the other one so high before it begins to give out.

Tim and the guy recoil in different directions, and as he tries to regain his bearings, Tim glances up to see a massive figure comes out of nowhere and bowl the guy over.

Tim doesn’t think he remembers Jason being this _tall_. Did Jason get taller? And – oh. He’s saying something to Tim.

Shaking his head to get rid of the sudden fuzzy feeling overtaking his ears and jaw, Tim tries to listen to Jason. He squints his eyes and tilts his head, as if getting an ear closer to the vigilante will suddenly allow him to hear again.

“—there are more guys coming, kid,” Hood is saying.

More guys?

Aw, shoot. Tim should have seen this coming-–even an up-and-coming gang wouldn’t be foolish enough to send just a few men to a deal. Surely they must have had more people stashed somewhere.

But that doesn’t make sense. Tim knows that Jason isn’t stupid enough to not check the other warehouses around, so where have the guys been hiding?

The question is answered for him when two minivans (only Gotham, seriously, are these gangs on a budget?) slam through the warehouse doors and then—oh. Those are bullets.

When he blinks again, Tim is behind a concrete column? Hood is standing above where he’s collapsed on the floor, his guns drawn and aiming at their assailants. Tim isn’t sure if there’s a rhyme or reason for… wait. Hood is taking out the gangs. The guys he was supposed to take out, because this is his case.

Shaking his head (bad idea, because it only seems to get fuzzier), Tim struggles to his feet.

“Whoa, kid, I wouldn’t do that. The guy clocked you across the jaw pretty hard. Wouldn’t be surprised if you got a concussion.”

Tim grits his teeth and stands up. The last thing he needs today is to be called useless and to have his case closed for him. He doesn’t need this, and he certainly didn’t ask for it.

So he says the first words that come to mind. “Screw you, Hood.”

It comes out like a snarl. Hood is clearly taken aback by the venom packed behind his words. But anger is clearly doing its job, because even though he’s injured, he’s not going to be babied.

Tim stands up, ignoring the knives in his leg and the heat in his face, gripping his bo staff. As soon as there’s a lull in the bullets, Tim darts out from behind the column, dodging the bullets with the help of his cape and leaps over the line of attackers, whirling around and whacking them across the back.

He ignores Jason yelling “Red, what the hell?” in the background.

Tim’s brain finally gets the memo that it needs to be working, and he checks his surroundings as he drops a few more gang members.

One: the guns are no longer where they were.

 _Probably loaded into a van to be taken away_ , Tim’s brain helpfully supplies.

Two: the drugs are still here.

Which means Jason would probably stay here too.

With that in mind, Tim grabs his bo and sprints to the van that is screeching out of the warehouse. He grabs onto the rails on the roof, smashing the back window and eliciting shouts from the guys inside.

It takes them five seconds to start firing bullets. Tim curses, trying to twist to avoid them, but the window is too broad and Tim is too close to them.

In lieu of having a bullet embedded in his stomach, Tim makes the choice to let go, cursing himself all the way. He hits the asphalt and rolls to his feet, hissing when he feels the gouges the pavement left in his uniform. What good is his armor if it can’t stand the concrete?

With a flick of his wrist, Tim opens up the computer embedded in his wrist. His bike is a block away, so he begins an all-out sprint to it, opening up a secure line to Oracle.

He hates having to rely on someone else, but since he was brilliant and didn’t plant a tracker on the car, he has no choice but to rely on Oracle to hack cameras to follow the van. Ideally, he can stop the guns from reaching the streets (and avoid being called useless by Damian), or he could grab one to see what it does.

When he finally gets his bike up and running, a hand grabs his upper arm. Tim instinctively twists out of the grip and delivers a crushing blow to where the person’s head would be… except his hand cries out in agony as it connects with a solid helmet.

Jason.

“What the HELL are you doing?” Jason roars, and Tim flinches. He’s never heard Jason so angry in the field before (and that's saying something, because Jason has been plenty mad in the field before, although it's typically directed at Bruce).

“Doing my job,” Tim hisses. “Stop getting in my way. You wanted info on the drug, and there are _members of Indigo in that warehouse_ , so go interrogate them. You got what you want. I need to go stop the weapons from hitting the streets.”

“You’re not going alone,” Jason insists.

“And you can’t leave the drugs here, Hood. This is my deal, my job. Now, stop talking to me before they get away, asshole.”

Jason steps back as Tim kicks the ground and rumbles away. Distantly, he hears Jason calling out _we’re not done talking about this_ , but he ignores him, grits his teeth, and leans into the bike, urging it to go faster.

 _Red, you there_? Oracle asks.

“Yeah, O. I’m headed out of the warehouse district.”

_Got it. Take a left at the next light, Red. You’re going on a ride._

“Great,” Tim mutters, urging his bike faster.

He has no intention of talking with Jason after he catches up with the weapons. Best to leave him before Jason can see how unworthy and weak Tim is. Jason was—is—was? His hero. Tim doesn’t have much left, and he knows Jason probably just puts up with him now to spite the rest of the family. 

Even if he knows this, he still can’t bear to see the disgust on Jason’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain: So... karyal, how's your pain tolerance?  
> Me: er... okay, I guess? never broken a bone, though  
> My brain: how much pain do you think Tim can handle?  
> Me: oh, whatever, he's having a bad time anyway.
> 
> I'm being mean to Tim, poor guy, but I really do care about him.
> 
> (chapter alternatively known as: I try to write action without sounding like a dork)


	4. Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Replacement has put Jason in an impossible situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know very little about the layout of Gotham (tried to look at some maps) or anybody's patrol route (does that change fic to fic?) so I just tried my best. If anything is wrong in terms of geography, just pretend like it's totally normal :)
> 
> Chapter has some cursing ('cause, you know, Jason). Also, blood and violence (not gory, though, I don't think?).

The Replacement has put him in an impossible situation: chase after him and help apprehend a new potential threat to the streets or get some much-needed knowledge on the whereabouts of Indigo’s boss and shut their operation down. Ideally, getting his hands on the chemical composition of Indigo would be best, considering the sheer number of people that are falling victim to the drug.

Jason curses at the receding taillights of his successor before whirling around and making a beeline for the warehouse he left. When he runs into the kid again, he’s having some words with him, especially considering his rather concerning attitude shift. That kid is supposed to be the team leader, the genius, the prodigal son (Dick is the golden child, of course, but Tim is just on another level altogether).

What Jason sees is not that son. What he _does_ see concerns him – that’s the attitude of someone who is about to make a very stupid decision.

Jason would know, since he was once that kid.

He skids to a stop in the warehouse, taking a gun out of its holster as he searches for the guys he either knocked out or incapacitated. There’s one with a broken leg (Jason vaguely remembers that he was the first guy he went after when he landed), groaning and trying to crawl away. Where to, Jason has no idea. He’s not going to be able to get far.

With a growl, Jason hauls up the guy by the hair, slamming him against the crate with the drugs in it and forcing him to look in the eyes of his hood. The helmet is picking up on all sorts of signs – the first one being that the guy’s heart rate is elevating, and fast.

He’s scared shitless, that’s for sure.

“Who do ya work for?” Jason practically yells as he shakes the guy. Intimidation usually works best, presuming this guy doesn’t have a panic attack while Jason is trying to get information out of him.

The guy shakes his head, mustering up a snarl despite his terror. “I’m not telling you.”

Jason looms over him, slamming him against the crate again. “Might wanna think again, asshole. Ya work for a guy who is dealin’ this shit to _kids,_ which means you’re gonna tell me who you work for or I will make your life much more painful than they ever could.”

The guy takes a breath. “I don’t know, I swear! I’m just an enforcer. The guy over there could help you more than I could – he’s the guy with a direct line to the boss!”

Jason doesn’t let go of the man’s head while he glances over at the guy out cold on the ground next to him. He’s got the slick, greasy look of someone who likes watching other people in pain. Probably the guy who suggests all sorts of sick formulas for the boss to try on kids in the streets.

Jason wastes no time zip tying the henchman to the crate before turning to Sleazy and jerking him awake. Props to the guy, he wakes up fast, all things considered.

Frowning, Jason shoves the guy back down, putting a steel-toed boot on top of him before looking around. It doesn’t make sense that this guy is here – he’s got a direct line to the boss, Wimpy over there said so. So why is he lying in the ground, right next to his henchmen? He doesn’t strike Jason as the type to fight alongside his muscle – more like the type to run.

Protecting the drugs, maybe? But what’s the point in that? They had to know Hood would be back at some point to bash their heads again.

Swallowing down the feeling that something is _not right,_ Jason rolls the guy over before kicking him in the stomach.

“Ya awake, sunshine?” Jason drawls cruelly over him.

“Asshole,” Sleazy spits back. Jason is both disgusted and pleased to see he’s spitting blood.

“Now, let’s make one thing very clear,” Jason says, his accent disappearing as he harnesses a more sinister tone. “You’re going to tell me who you work for and what’s in the drug. Then, instead of killing you, I’ll paralyze you and leave you to bleed out on the floor, unless your henchmen have an ounce of sympathy and come help you.”

Sleazy grins around bloody teeth. “You’d kill me either way, Hood. We both know that, huh? You don’t spare an ounce of mercy for drug dealers ‘round here.”

“True,” Jason replies, tilting his head and leveling his gun at his head. “But you’d be doing a _great_ service to me. Enough for me to leave your fate to chance.”

It’s a lie, and they both know it. Sleazy is dealing a drug. Said drug is killing kids. It’s pretty clear what Jason ends up doing to people like him.

“Ha,” Sleazy finally says under him. “Maybe I should tell ya, just ta spite him. Never cares about my work ‘nyhow. Just asks for profit, the stuck-up--,”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. The sound of a gunshot is almost surreal, because Jason is too surprised by the spray of blood from the hole in Sleazy’s head that is currently soaking his helmet.

There’s a second shot. Jason doesn’t have to look to know that Wimpy was the second victim. In that instant, Jason instinctively reacts, diving behind the drug crate and searching for a shooter.

There are no more shots. Jason doesn’t take a chance, though, and waits for a couple more seconds before tentatively tossing out a stray pebble on the ground to see if someone is trained on the crate, waiting for him to come out.

Nothing. No shot comes, and cursing, Jason grabs a Ziploc (seriously?) bag of Indigo, stashing it in one of his pockets before high tailing it out of the warehouse. Unknown shooter and a couple of dead gang members.

Jason is pissed, to say the least. He came with the intention of wringing some information out of the guy, finds the Replacement in a… questionable condition, loses the only lead he has on the actual gang, and now he has to sequence the damn drug by himself.

Maybe he’ll offload it on the Replacement, he thinks, but that wouldn’t be fair to the already overworked kid.

Opening up a line to Oracle, Jason hauls his ass onto his bike and kicks it to life before roaring out of the docks. He doesn’t wait for the link to finish connecting, taking a left and headed in the last direction he saw the Replacement in. As much as Jason hates to leave the drug deal without any more information than what the drug can give him, there’s not much more he can get out of there. Besides, the guns still pose a serious threat.

“Oracle,” Jason growls as he gets online. “Take me to Red.”

_I’m a bit busy, Hood,_ Barbara replies, voice stressed.

“Because the kid ditched me and tried to go after a van full of weapons without backup. I know, so _get me to him_.”

_He’s through Downtown and towards Chinatown,_ Oracle replies. _I’m a bit busy at the moment, Hood, so that’s the best I can give you._

These people are idiots. Jason wonders if getaway drivers have gotten dumber over the years. He curses, before grudgingly opening a line to the GCPD to let them know that there are dead people at the docks that need to be taken care of.

He justifies it by telling himself that it’s not on his actual turf, just this sort of grey zone that are Gotham’s docks.

_Calling the GCPD is the sort of optimistic thing Red would do,_ Jason’s mind hisses at him.

“Shut up,” Jason replies.

He’s taking a hard left when he sees the taillights of Red’s bike ahead of him. Seriously, if Jason could catch up to him in just a few minutes (with some extremely questionable driving decisions), what even are these getaway drivers doing? Going in circles isn’t gonna throw off Red.

“Red,” Jason says into his comm. “You tell me what the hell is goin on right now or I swear I will stop controlling my temper.”

Kid’s laugh is dry. “Stop controlling your temper? I wasn’t aware you had any control to begin with.”

Green begins to tinge the corners of Jason’s vision. “Watch your mouth, kid.”

Replacement scoffs over the comms. “I have this covered. Why don’t you go back and deal with the drugs, like I told you to?”

“Sleazy is dead, kid. Someone shot him as I was questioning him…” Jason trails off.

Sleazy was about to tell Jason who his boss was. _Someone doesn’t want them knowing who the boss is_. Indigo is a small gang in the drug business. Even the bigger gangs don’t have the same sort of enforcement on the identity of the big boss. Add that to the weird ass guns, and there’s a problem.

“Uh, Replacement? I don’t think this is some random deal with some weird guns,” Jason says. “Somethin’ bigger is goin’ on here, and I think you’re gonna get caught up in somethin’ real bad here soon. Back off and let me help ya.”

“Can’t,” Red grunts back. “Almost on them.”

Jason growls and urges his bike faster, taking another corner at a terrifying speed. The screech of his tire tells him he probably shaved off a quarter of his tires in that turn.

“Kid, whatever you’re doin’, don’t,” Jason tries again.

“Just SHUT UP,” the Replacement yells, fury and desperation coating his words.

The line goes silent. Kid cut his comm link to Jason.

Meanwhile, Jason’s locked onto the zigzagging lights of Replacement’s bike, and a bit ahead of him, the smashed taillights of the van in front of him.

_Hood?_ Oracle says in Jason’s helmet. _Red just turned off my comm line to him. He just said they had some of the guns ready to fire at him. He’s being reckless – stop him before he gets himself hurt._

“What do you think I’m doin’?” Jason howls back over the wind in his ears. “Kid isn’t listening to me either!”

Oracle is silent. Jason takes it to mean she’s busy with someone else or is trying to talk to Replacement again.

Jason glances down once, looking at the gauges on his bike, and when he looks up again, there’s a semi in the middle of the street. Not in front of him, but in front of both the van and Replacement’s bike.

“Stop!” Jason yells desperately. At the speed they’ve got to be going, a crash into the semi is potentially deadly.

The van bails, skidding to a halt before slamming into the side of the semi anyway. Replacement, though, doesn’t seem to show any signs of slowing.

“Abort!” Jason shouts, hoping that maybe the kid will pick up on the desperate vibes he’s sending and drop the bike.

He does. But he’s already far too close to make a good stop, even with the modifications Jason knows are on his bike, and it tumbles off to one side. Its rider, on the other hand, skids limply on the ground before slamming into the wheel of the van.

“Shit,” Jason says, screeching to a halt as close as he dares, with all the other cars skidding out of the way in front of him.

“Please be okay,” he whispers, jumping a couple of cars and rushing at the van.

He comes to a complete stop as a gun is pointed directly at Replacement’s face. The kid is just blinking his eyes open, groaning. Probably concussed.

“Another step, he dies,” the gang member holding the gun says to Jason.

“You have no idea what you’re doin’,” Jason spits back. “Drop the gun.”

“Don’t think so,” the guy yells, his eyes falling somewhere over Jason’s left shoulder.

Despite the burn to know what the guy is looking at, Jason isn’t going to take his eyes off of a gun that does who knows what. Whatever is over his shoulder, it’s not his immediate concern.

That decision proves to be an erroneous one when something slams into said shoulder, sending fire erupting over the entire surface of his skin and starts into his vision. Warm liquid oozes into his sleeve, and Jason finally looks down.

His arm looks like it’s been attached by a shark, with three gashes running from his shoulder and down to his elbow. Jason nearly loses the grip on the gun he’d drawn when he leaped off of the bike, staggering off to the left at the sheer depth of the gouges in his arm.

The person who attacked him is dressed in all black, which would normally be great for hiding in the shadows, but they’re in the middle of a brightly lit intersection with a lot of bystanders. Jason hates the attention. Bats work in the shadows, and it’s rare for people to run into a fight on the edge of downtown.

Jason adjusts his stance, holding his arm at an angle close to his body. The attacker hesitates, though, and even though Jason can’t see anything around him, he has a prickling feeling that the attacker is evaluating the situation and is seeing something that Jason isn’t.

In his brief moment in his head, Jason can’t dodge the blow to his left leg that sends him sideways, his knee no longer holding up his weight. The attacker, rather than hitting him when he’s down, jumps over him and runs into the darkness of Gotham’s ever-present alleyways.

Jason’s head slumps back on the ground as he squints at the gang member that’s still holding a gun to the Replacement’s head, saying something he can’t hear. He needs to stop him, so he tries to get up, but the agony in his arm keeps him pinned to the ground.

Still, even with the pain and the anger clouding his head, Jason can’t miss the imposing figure that drops into the street without warning, knocking the gang member out with one blow and proceeding to go after the rest of the gang members in the van.

_Damn, I did not want to see the old man today,_ Jason thinks as he lets his head fall back onto the concrete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: tries to write a chase scene, despite very limited knowledge on how high-speed chases work.
> 
> Wow, another chapter a week later? Unbelievable! Even I didn't know I was capable of this :D I was totally not using this to procrastinate on my work.
> 
> As usual, thank you for reading and lmk if you have any feedback!


	5. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce might be a bit ooc but he cares about his sons, dang it! he's failing at being a parent right now but he's trying to be a good dad after being abruptly brought back to the right time.
> 
> warning for some minor violence (broken bones, blood)

Batman is considering heading home for the night when he suddenly feels compelled to do one last check of the police radio. He’s half hoping there isn’t anything about to go wrong – it’s raining buckets outside, Robin is benched with an injury, and there hasn’t been too much action yet tonight. 

His gut, however, says otherwise. He’s reluctant to go home if there’s still something he can do in the city. Crime doesn’t stop in a city like Gotham, no matter how horrible the weather.

_Yeah, we’ve got Red Robin and Red Hood chasing a van through downtown. They’re coming up on a couple of busy intersections, anyone wanna clean up after ‘em?_

Batman bristles at the statement. There are _busy_ intersections, and they only care about cleaning up the mess, rather than protecting any potential innocents?

Gordon’s going to get a visit from Batman in the next few days. Although, Batman muses, it probably won’t do any good in a department as corrupt as Gotham’s. Even an in-depth overhaul of the GCPD would barely scratch the surface of the problem.

Sighing, Batman looks in the direction of the Batcave, imagining getting warm, before he eventually decides to drop in to see how both Reds are doing. It takes him a long time to simply make the decision to go after them because he’s unsure as to how they would react to his presence.

Each of his sons has earned their right to operate on their own, with Batman’s trust in their abilities (although Hood is still a rather prickly topic). The other problem is that he hasn’t talked with either of them as of late, especially considering he’s only recently gotten back out on the street.

He calls them his sons. He will always call them his sons, because they are. However, he doesn’t expect them to call him their father, nor will he force them to.

Maybe he can convince them to come back to the Manor tonight. It’s Saturday. Maybe they’d be up for a movie? They probably wouldn’t want to be in the same room as Batman, but he might be successful in convincing them to hang out with the rest of the family.

Swinging through the city, Batman catches sight of a traffic jam in an intersection and -- _oh_. There’s a van smoking against the side of a semi, and there are two bikes strewn across the wet cement.

And in the middle of it all are his _sons_. His heart drops to his shoes as he sees Red Robin slumped against the tire of the van, wedged between the semi and the van at an awkward angle, evidently too battered to even fight back or think of a plan as a gun is shoved in his face.

Across the intersection, Hood is clearly trying to distract the henchmen in the van, but even Batman can’t do anything as a shadow leaps out of nowhere and attacks him as well. Swallowing down a cry (now is not the time for that, not when he _knows_ he can reach his sons in time), he leaps off a building, looking to target the person that attacked Hood, but they’re _gone_ and now Red Robin is the one in danger. 

Red Robin, who has a gun pointed at his head, is now clearly out of it. Batman can’t tell if he’s passed out or merely close to it – but either way, he is injured and needs help.

Vaguely, Batman hears Hood groan and slump to the ground, likely in shock over what the shadow did to his arm. He’s probably also coming off an adrenaline high.

One moment, Batman is cataloguing the situation in a heartbeat. The next time he blinks, he’s yanking the last henchman out through a broken window, tossing them aside onto the pavement. Rain beats down as Batman stands over their limp body, the broken glass on the ground beneath them becoming lost in the rivulets of water on the street.

He wants so desperately to let his fists take over, to deliver a beatdown to the people who hurt his sons, but they’re hurt and obviously the priority right now. Even so, a quick glance at the henchmen tells him that he’s toeing the line and needs to reign himself in before he breaks the code. 

Leaving the men on the ground for the GCPD (one clearly has several fractures in his leg, and Batman can remember the crunch of it underneath his foot as it snapped), he hesitates for a fraction of a second before going to Red Robin.

There’s no telling exactly what they went through tonight without their firsthand accounts (and Red Robin’s reports, which are meticulous). Red Robin seems mostly intact, maybe a concussion, but there could be internal damage that Batman doesn’t know about.

“Robin, can you send a Batmobile to my location?” Batman says into his comm.

He’s not exactly comfortable with the idea that Damian is awake so late at night when he could be getting some much-needed sleep, but it’s a weekend and he insisted. Bruce eventually caved, although he’s told Alfred that Damian should ideally get some rest when Batman says he’s headed home for the night.

_Batmobile en route,_ replies his youngest.

“Good. Now get some rest. And tell Agent A to prep two spots in the medbay.”

_Father, would it not be beneficial for me to assist with that?_

“No. You’re injured, you need sleep if you want to be back out anytime soon.”

There’s a heavy pause. Eventually the comm crackles back to life as Damian reluctantly acquiesces to his order. Even so, he’s obviously not happy about it.

Batman gently lifts Red Robin from where he’s slumped on the ground and brings him to where Hood has collapsed against the pavement, quickly setting him down when he sees the extent of Hood’s cuts. They’re still bleeding profusely over the street, and Batman drops Red Robin as quickly as he can before administering basic first aid to his second eldest.

He’s almost grateful that Jason can’t fight back or spit curses at him. He immediately curses himself for thinking that, seeing as his son isn’t fighting him because he passed out.

Staunching the blood flow proves to be a nearly impossible task, seeing as the three cuts are tight together and any time Batman touches the wounds, blood gushes out faster than before.

The roar of the Batmobile can be heard in the distance, and Batman glances up from first-aid to _finally_ register that they are in the middle of an intersection in downtown.

That’s a problem.

Batman eventually settles on wrapping Jason’s arm as tightly as he dares, prepping them both for a fast loading into the Batmobile so he can get out of the middle of a brightly lit intersection, where he’s pretty sure people are having a field day with pictures, even with the rain.

While he waits impatiently for the Batmobile to arrive, he peers at the van that crashed. Why were they involved in a high-speed chase in downtown, of all places? Last Bruce was aware, they were off in their separate patrol territories.

How did they even end up together?

The Batmobile screeches to a halt in front of him, spraying water over his already soaked uniform. Shaking his head to clear his eyes, Bruce does his best to load his sons into the Batmobile without hurting them, strapping them in as quickly as he can before closing the door.

He does one last double check of the car. He guesses that both Reds were probably chasing a gang, but it never hurts to check in case they have something in their car with them. Sometimes they can get a hold of unreleased drugs and get the chemical composition before they wreak too much havoc.

When he glances into the van, he has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Those are guns. Guns that _glow_.

What in the world?

He’s seen some weird stuff in his time as Batman (one of the most prominent ones being the no-longer-dead son he has in the back of his car right now) but glowing guns is a new one.

With a grunt, Batman hauls the crate of weapons out and shoves them into the trunk of the Batmobile. He doesn’t trust the GCPD with containing a weapon he doesn’t know anything about, and if his sons were chasing the van, then they’re probably pertinent to whatever brought them together tonight.

As he leaps into the Batmobile and screeches out of the streetlight (Bats work in the dark, damnit), he can’t shake the nagging suspicion that something dark is lingering on the horizon.

…

Alfred forces him to go shower and take a nap.

“You’re only harming yourself by hovering so closely around them, Master Bruce,” were his exact words.

In essence: you can’t do a thing right now, so go get rest.

Still, Bruce has a hard time peeling himself away from his son’s beds. Both are pale, their hair plastered to their skulls. Jason’s jacket sleeve is torn to shreds, and Tim’s suit somehow has torn, even though it was designed to be tear-resistant.

After a brief shower, he changes into dry clothes and wearily trudges up the staircase to the Manor. He doesn’t want to leave his sons in the Batcave, not when they’re so injured, but Alfred has practically forced him to get rest. It’s entirely possible that could be a few _days_ before they come to, and Bruce would stay awake for every minute until it happened.

So, rest it is.

There are no movies playing in the theater (it’s too late for a movie, Bruce belatedly realizes), and he hears a whisper of a step before his eldest son seemingly glides into the hallway before him.

Or, Bruce thinks, it’s because his eyes are swimming with exhaustion. He can’t be entirely sure.

“Bruce,” Dick says, almost hesitant. He was down in the cave when Tim and Jason were brought in, but he was sent to forcibly wrangle Damian to bed.

“Dick,” Bruce replies. 

There’s so much weight on his tongue. What does he say to his eldest son? Where should he even begin? He was gone for so long, and though he’s been back for a while, there’s still a yawning gap between him and the rest of the family. Even Alfred seems different. 

Dick, although now more regularly present at the manor, dodges certain topics. He’s not entirely surprised – Dick likes to pretend things are okay, even when they aren’t – but the degree to which he is avoiding Bruce and specific topics is concerning.

Bruce wonders if the rift in his family is too big to heal. If he hadn’t gotten lost in time, this wouldn’t have happened. As usual, he shoulders the blame for causing the fractures in the family.

“Get some rest,” Dick finally says, filling the crushing silence between them. “You look exhausted, even by your standards.”

Bruce wearily nods and leaves Dick in the hallway, nudging open the door to his room and sitting on the bed with a sigh. Even when he closes his eyes, he can’t stop seeing the faces of his sons.

_You failed us,_ they whisper.

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe, bruce -- props for effort but you gotta communicate
> 
> i'm actually updating at a somewhat regular schedule??? what is this???
> 
> did y'all notice bruce try to keep batman/bruce (and vigilante/civilian names) separate in the field and miserably fail at it? :D i probably shouldn't have mentioned that (subtle cues and all that) but i cannot keep my mouth shut, so here i am telling y'all about it.
> 
> i have such a hard time writing damian and cass. for the sake of the story, cass is just gonna be undercover abroad unless i suddenly gain the ability to magically work her in.
> 
> thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos! as usual, any feedback is appreciated!


	6. Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wakes up in the Batcave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter! I totally meant to get this out last Saturday, but life happens. As usual, thank you for reading, and feel free to give feedback!
> 
> Heads up for this chapter -- Tim is not exactly in the best headspace right now, and is having some issues with self-worth. Also, there are some mentions of the wounds Tim and Jason got from the first few chapters. Please take care of yourselves! I am always willing to talk if you need it.

The steady pulsing of a heart rate monitor is the first thing Tim hears when he pushes off the hazy veil of darkness. He can’t remember falling asleep, though, and why is he connected to a heart rate monitor? Where even is he? 

He tries to sit up, only to gasp in pain and lie back down when it feels like he got hit by a truck. 

Which, to be fair, is probably pretty accurate. Maybe he didn’t crash into the semi directly, but it was still the cause of his crash… right? 

Maybe he has a concussion. Tim only half remembers the events leading up to the crash – seeing the guns pulled out and pointed at him, Jason yelling in his ear, and then the semi. 

Everything after that is rather… blurry. Either he was hallucinating, or Batman showed up in the street when he was passing out, because if he strains hard enough, he can remember a really big black shadow above him. 

Maybe that was the guy with the gun, though. 

Tim resigns himself to opening his eyes to harsh light, licking his dry lips and glancing around him. The faint smell is almost undetectable in the medbay, but it’s there. 

Tim’s _in the Batcave_. 

So why is he alone? They wouldn’t just bring him into the medbay, connect him to heart rate equipment and wrap his now swollen ankle and wrist and then abandon him, would they? 

Maybe they would. The family ( _no, don’t call them that_ ) has been so distant as of late. Of course Tim doesn’t have someone waiting at his bedside like all real members of the family usually do. He doesn’t really warrant the same attention, does he? 

Fighting down the tears that threaten to rise, he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. He can’t believe he was foolish enough to delude himself into thinking that this family wouldn’t abandon him. 

Everyone always does. 

\--- 

The next time Tim comes to, there’s a definite presence at the side of his bed. Maybe he’s dreaming, or maybe he died and is in hell. Maybe they’re just “making up” for not being there last time, which Tim always knows leads to eventual disappointment. 

“Master Tim, I am afraid I will need you to sit up so that I may reassess your injuries. 

Alfred, then. Tim lets a breath out in both relief and nervousness, because Alfred is one of the few people that will convince him to talk about his problems. 

(He tries to tell himself that it’s merely out of duty, but Alfred just doesn’t fit what Tim knows about how the rest of the family sees him. Alfred is immune to the moodiness of the Waynes. Obviously.) 

With a groan, Tim allows himself to be propped up while Alfred bandages a gash on his arm (whoa, when did that happen?) and takes a look at his ankle, which has swollen alarmingly in the time he must have been out. Speaking of which... 

“Hey, Alfie, how long have I been out?” Tim breathes out shakily as pain radiates from his ankle. 

“I’m afraid you’ve been out for just over a day, Master Tim. It is currently midnight. Master Bruce brought you and Master Jason back to the cave after an altercation last night,” replies Alfred steadily. 

“The guns,” Tim wheezes. “Did someone get one of the guns for analysis?” 

Alfred fixes him with an unimpressed look. “Yes, Master Bruce did return with an entire crate. However, I must advise you not to get involved in any field work because you are still healing.” 

_Did they even check my organs? Do they know about my missing spleen?_

“...sprained wrist. Severe sprained ankle—I would advise you not to walk on it. Only a mild concussion, which is remarkable, considering Master Bruce said you crashed your bike. Bruising across your jaw and back, alongside some cuts on your arms. Do take it easy, Master Tim.” 

No spleen, then. Huh. Maybe his injuries weren’t _that_ bad. It’s not like they do x-rays every night after crime fighting. Besides. He’d rather they not bring up any painful memories associated with said organ. 

“Master Bruce is looking into the guns.” 

Wait. Didn’t Alfred say that Bruce brought Jason back to the cave? 

“Where’s Jason?” Tim blurts. 

Getting knocked out is really not doing anything for his brain to mouth filter. 

Alfred’s lips press into a thin line. “I’m afraid Master Jason left for his safehouse. I strongly advised him to take some rest after he experienced stab wounds as well.” 

Great. Tim lets his head fall back against the headboard of the medbay cot. Jason left, and Tim is stuck at the Manor. At least Jason is missed. Tim isn’t a fool, he knows how much Bruce just wishes Jason would come home. Instead, he got the nosey neighbor that can’t take care of a stupid deal by himself. 

Deals. Wayne Enterprises. 

Tim is so screwed. 

\--- 

Tim manages to coax Alfred into letting him move to his room. In the time that it takes him to do so (another day), Bruce just drops by to tell him he’s looking into the weapons. Tim wants to shout, to scream that he can close this stupid case, but the words stick in his throat. 

After everything, he can’t bring himself to be angry at Bruce for long periods of time. Tim’s obviously not doing a good enough job as of late, which forces others to pick up the slack. 

Tim briefly spots Dick and Damian in the cave. Dick doesn’t stop by (and that _hurts_ but he won’t admit it out loud), and Damian looks inside with a smug look on his face. 

_You’re pathetic, Drake,_ he can practically hear him say. 

In his room, at least Tim can get some work done for WE. He’s far behind on meetings and finalizing budgets and approving a new expansion of the R&D department. His head pounds in the darkness of the room as squints his eyes at his laptop, desperately trying to finish his WE work and type up a report from his failed mission with Jason. 

Even with all the work he has to do, his recovery is lonely. The only person he really sees around is Alfred, with everyone else caught up in their own cases or hanging out with each other. That’s ok. Tim can handle the loneliness. 

\--- 

It takes another few days before the call comes. Tim is automatically wary of it, seeing as it’s an unknown number. Then again, very few people know the number to his personal cell, so he takes it. 

“Replace—kid.” 

Tim immediately drops his work and focuses on the call. He’s really never managed to crush that part of him that worshipped Jason. He’s just gotten better at hiding it. 

“Jason. What can I do for you?” 

A groan. “So. I might’a ignored Alfred’s warning ta take it easy with my stab wounds. But. I think I found something ya might wanna see.” 

An alert on his laptop draws his eyes away from the wall he was staring at. Jason sent him an email. How is Jason even getting his information? 

“Ya forget I once trained under Batman too. Plus, it’s not too hard if ya have a work email in the system. I can get into that,” Jason replies. 

Tim silently curses himself for clearly not thinking that last question to himself. Opening up the email, he sees that Jason sent a single attachment of... 

“What the hell?” Tim says, zooming in on the image. “Your camera got this?” 

“Imagine my surprise when I found that the drugs we grabbed glowed as well,” Jason replies dryly. “Seems like cameras can pick up the glow. Not sure what it is, yet. Hoping it ain’t radioactive.” 

“No _duh_ ,” Tim hisses. “Have you told Bruce?” 

The line falls silent. Oh, no. No no no no no. Did he seriously just ask Jason if he’d talked to Bruce? He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for Jason’s inevitable explosion. Project Make Jason Part Of The Family (Again) is not going so hot. 

“No,” Jason finally says. “Ya got the time ta look at the weapons at the deal?” 

“Bruce has them in the cave. I’m confined to my room, but it’s late and all the Bats should be out. I think O is on comms tonight, and Alfred is doing... Alfred things. I can probably sneak in.” 

“Great. Chop chop, kid. I ain’t waiting ‘round all day for ya. I gotta get on the drugs before they keep circulaing.” 

Tim slips out of his bed and hobbles down to the Cave, wincing as he puts any sort of weight on his injured ankle. He hides in an alcove as Alfred passes, holding his breath until Alfred disappears around a corner. 

The cave is, in fact, empty when he gets there. The crate of weapons is sitting in a secure locker, so Tim heads to the containment box. Bruce has one of the weapons inside, the soft red pulses of light clashing with the harsh blue light filling the cave. 

Bruce has obviously been testing the weapon, considering he found a cartridge of bullets that has a red cutout in the side. Tim breathes out, lowering his eyes to level with the stock, taking in how the red seemingly acts as some sort of energy source for the gun. That’s weird, considering it seems to fire regular bullets. 

“Kid.” 

Tim shakes himself with Jason’s sharp interjection and sinks into the chair in front of the Batcomputer. Shaking the mouse to wake it up, Tim doesn’t have to look far for Bruce’s first round of analysis on the weapon. 

First round is always material makeup, chemical components, and radioactivity. Not in that order, necessarily, but that’s usually the stuff that appears in Gotham. His eyes flick over the initial reports, looking for anything odd. The second time he glances at the data, his eyes catch on the readouts from the material makeup. 

“Well, Jason, I don’t think you’re going to like this. The Batcomputer says this is made of steel, but the specs on the material don’t match steel at all. In fact, they don’t match any known material, element, or chemical.” 

Jason’s remarkably quiet. Tim keeps clicking through the analysis, looking for anything that tells him what the red glowy stuff is. 

“I don’t think this is radiation, either. Looks like some sort of... highly compacted energy source. If that’s the case, I could probably say that the bullets aren’t regular bullets,” Tim continues when Jason doesn’t reply. 

“The guns ain’t from this earth, are they?” Jason finally groans. 

“Nope. This raises so many more questions. Why are the drugs glowing? Where is this stuff coming from? Who’s making it? Why?” Tim fires off the first few questions that he can think of. 

Jason hisses in exasperation. “I hate the multiverse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There are definitely some gaps in the logic here, just fill them in with whatever you feel like. I tried (sometimes I forget what I've already written, does anyone else experience that?).
> 
> Chapter also known as: I try to write some angst and move the plot forward, but I can't sit still for Tim's entire recovery, so he's already back in action.
> 
> Am I making this a multiverse fic? Yes, but the main focus are characters (and universe) here. I am being very loose with time and what characters are around and pretty much everything else. 
> 
> Thank you guys for all the comments and kudos!


	7. Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason causes problems (and a prank) and picks up Tim from the Manor. Very reluctantly, he might add. And he's definitely not helping him with his case!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, guys! Thank you for dropping by again.
> 
> A couple of notes for this chapter:  
> 1\. I actually went back into the last chapter and pushed the time Jason took to call Tim to a few days (2-3ish), just to work with Jason's time frame here. I have a plot but the details keep coming back to bite me, oops  
> 2\. This chapter is heavy at points. Warnings here for mentions of drugs, discussion of Jason's death in an explosion (by Jason), and a separate deadly explosion. Please be warned and do not read if this is distressing. This chapter is sectioned with three dashes (---) so you can read the first three sections and last section if you wish to skip this (the first section does have mentions of injuries and drugs). I will also summarize in the notes at the end.  
> 3\. Also, Jason swears here.
> 
> As usual, feedback is appreciated!

“So, run that by me again, Replacement,” Jason says, pinning the phone to his ear as he peels away the bandages from the slashes on his arm.

“I need you to come to the Manor,” the kid bluntly replies.

Jason grits his teeth and scowls. The stupid replacement isn’t even being subtle. Jason _hates_ going to the Manor. It’s a reminder of all that he’s lost because of the foolish teenager that left Gotham so long ago. He can’t stand the gloom that surrounds the cave, encircling you in darkness and the hunger for justice.

He’s not that kid anymore. He doesn’t have a right to be at the Manor when nobody wants him there. Even the Replacement doesn’t want him there—it’s just out of necessity.

“Give me a damn good reason I shouldn’t hang up on ya right now,” Jason hisses into the phone, batting down a wave of green and trying to focus on the now oozing stitches in his left arm. 

He doesn’t pity the Bats that had to deal with a major Arkham breakout. With Cass out of town, the Demon Brat still benched due to his injury (Jason mourns the time when Bruce was still concerned with his injuries), and the Replacement holed up at the Manor, the Bats were extremely shorthanded for a Arkaham breakout.

Jason’s just glad that the Joker (that piece of shit) didn’t get out. Still, Dickhead and Bruce were pulled in all different directions over the past few nights, trying and failing to contain Rogues that just kept getting away from them. Eventually, Spoiler and Signal managed to help reign in the chaos.

Jason felt useless in the first few days of his injury. He couldn’t crawl out of the window without his leg feeling like it was burning off. On day three, the itch to fight someone overwhelmed his pain, and he heaved himself out the window to go follow the drugs Indigo was still running.

All he got that day were more bruises and torn stitches. He dragged himself back through the window with a grunt, not bothering to take his helmet off immediately as he dropped another bag of evidence from the one warehouse he managed to raid before blowing the warehouses sky high.

He rested his head against the rickety kitchen table, not even caring that he was getting blood all over his case files. He just wanted a hot shower and to sleep for a couple of days.

It was only when his helmet began beeping that he realized his helmet was locked onto something. Jason frowned, because he didn’t see any Bats in the apartment, which would have been his primary concern.

It took him a solid minute to realize that his helmet locked onto the evidence from the failed bust he and Red ran a few days back. Under his helmet’s vision, it appears distorted, almost glowing. Jason raised an eyebrow, because _no_ , he did not want to deal with that right now, and laid his head back on the table.

“I need you to come pick me up from the Manor,” Tim continues as Jason pulls himself out of his thoughts.

“Why?” Jason replies. “Fed up with the special treatment already?”

“I’m tired of being holed up here,” Tim admits sullenly.

The kid does seem exasperated. Jason hopes he’s been sleeping, but seeing as Jason has observed some extremely questionable caffeine intakes by the kid, he’s not betting on it.

“You’re not crashing at my place.”

“What if I told you I stole one of the guns and we can test it out?”

“…fine. I’ll come pick ya up.”

\---

Jason does go to the Manor, but he can’t resist messing with the rest of the Bats. When he sneaks into the Batcave, he’s not surprised to see the Replacement already waiting, a gun already slung over his shoulder.

That’s a weird sight, Jason decides, before slipping up the stairs and heading to the kitchen. The kitchen is Alfred’s sacred space, but he knows that Alfred might be the only person left in the Manor that actually cares when he drops by.

He can’t stand to actually talk to the man right now, though, so he drops off the plate and retreats back into the cave.

Stealth missions really aren’t meant for people as big as Jason, but oh well.

“What did you do?” Tim asks when he gets back down to the cave.

“None of ya business, kid,” Jason drawls in return. “Get on the bike.”

\---

“So, how are we doing this?” the Replacement asks, standing back from Jason as he checks out the warehouse they commandeered for the night.

“We shoot something. See how the gun works. Problem solved,” Jason replies, mimicking blasting the empty pallets stacked in the middle of the warehouse.

The look on the Replacement’s face is taunting him. Even underneath the cowl (kid insisted, since anyone could walk in on their party), his stare remains judgmental.

He looks like Bruce. Jason internally shudders at the thought of that (another check in the Reasons the Replacement Is Better Than Me column) and turns his attention back to the pallets.

“What exactly do you think is going to happen?” Jason says, staring at the rotting wood. “Ya think it’s gonna explode?”

Replacement hums, examining the gun as he holds it. Jason swallows the enormous discomfort he suddenly feels, seeing a Bat, especially Red Robin, holding a gun so casually. Jason is the black sheep of the family, and the Replacement’s behavior is becoming increasingly worrying.

He resolves to be a little bit more lighthearted around the kid, but he’s not really great at the whole sibling thing.

“I don’t think so,” Red finally replies. “I assume the glow is an energy source. The gun is built like a regular gun, though, so it doesn’t make much sense. I hardly think it’s just aesthetics, though.”

“So can I shoot it?” Jason asks impatiently.

Red waves a hand dismissively and Jason takes the gun from his hands, his nerves finally calmed when he gets it out of Red’s hold. In one swift move, Jason raises it and fires at the pallets.

The recoil from the gun is far stronger than he was expecting. It digs into his shoulder, and he’s glad that it’s at least armored and padded. However, he’s sorely disappointed to see all that happened was a new hole in the pallets.

He sighs and lowers the gun. “Seems normal, kid.”

A snarky response doesn’t come. Jason at least expects the kid to harp on him for calling him a kid, but a quick glance tells him that the Replacement is distracted. Following his gaze, Jason sees that it’s fixated on the bullet hole in the pallets.

“What’s happenin’?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know,” the Replacement breathes. “But look.”

Jason looks. And immediately sees nothing. Still, he squints his eyes, the helmet enhancing the image of the pallets, and _whoa_ , the kid definitely has better eyesight than him.

“It looks like it’s disintegrating,” Red gasps, hurrying to the pallet and snapping off a now-brittle piece of the palette, holding it up. It dissolves in front of his eyes, his tweezers (yes, tweezers, apparently Replacement has those in his belt) now grasping empty air.

“I gotta take a look at this,” kid continues, breaking a chunk of the regular wood off before shoving a handful of what now appears to be ash into an evidence bag.

“Didn’t think a gun could do that,” Jason says, peering over Red’s shoulder.

The palette is almost completely disintegrated before them, leaving a crater of ash on the ground. Among the ash are faint glimmers of red, and Jason reels back when a spark of red leaps from the ash to Jason’s outstretched glove.

It hurts like a bitch. Jason yelps, startled, and stares at his hand. Thankfully, it isn’t disintegrating, but it feels like someone just shot his finger off.

“Ow,” the Replacement says from the ground. Jason reels around to look at the kid, who is knelt over a now smoldering pile of glittering ashes.

“Is it just me, or is that pile of ashes smaller than before?” Jason asks.

“It’s not disintegrating, it’s _disappearing_.”

“After it dissolved?”

“I don’t know!” the Replacement sounds truly frustrated at this, and Jason stops prodding.

Still, the kid is right. The palettes are gone, and so are the ashes. The only evidence they were there are scorch marks burned into the concrete, and the pain still radiating up Jason’s arm. Jeez, it seems to be getting worse as it crawls along his nerves.

“Okay, so where’d tha palettes go?” Jason asks. “I mighta been a street kid, but even I know shit doesn’t just disappear. It’s gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Stop asking me questions. I gotta analyze the guns again, and I don’t have the equipment from the cave. We gotta raid it.”

Jason opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by his comm crackling to life. By the way the Replacement stiffens too, it’s gotta be a Bat thing. Whatever it is, if Jason is on it, it’s probably going to be bad.

“Bomb. Robinson Park.”

\---

“Old man pulled us out here for a bomb,” Jason grumbles as he and the Replacement stash their bikes in an alley.

“There are civilians here, Hood,” Replacement reminds him, voice cool.

Jason sends a sideways glance at him. His hands are moving like he’s giving a speech, which tells Jason his head is probably trying to figure out the gun.

In other words, he’s not focused on the problem at hand. 

“Focus, Replacement,” Jason barks. “There’s a bomb in the park, we gotta take care of it before people get hurt.”

Red jerks visibly, but the lenses of his cowl narrow and he snaps to attention.

“Reds. Get the few civilians out of here. Set up a perimeter.”

“It’s fucking nighttime, B, there can’t be that many people here,” Jason replies sarcastically.

“Just do it,” he grunts back, the strain in his voice revealing how worn he is. As much as Jason would love to keep pushing, because that’s what he _does_ , he doesn’t want to be caught in the explosions (literally, and the one that will come when Bruce loses it).

Rolling his eyes, Jason sets to the task, dragging the Replacement behind him. Thankfully, Jason is carrying the gun around this time—too dangerous to leave unattended, and Jason doesn’t feel comfortable with Red holding onto it.

They make relatively quick work of their task. It’s well past midnight (no better time to go test out strange guns, by Jason’s standards), and there aren’t a lot of people frequenting the park.

Still, Bruce’s tense words over the comm make Jason uneasy. There’s not a lot that fazes Batman, and he just seems… off.

It’s hard to describe.

Still, he’s lost in his head and doesn’t notice that both Reds aren’t the only one in the park. Dickhead and Demon Brat decided to drop in, if the bickering over the comms and the flashes of unnatural color not too far away are anything to go by.

“What’re you doing here?” Jason drawls, leaning casually against a conveniently placed railing.

“B called, said there was a bomb,” Nightwing replied.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand why a single bomb needs all of us?”

“I can’t defuse it,” comes Batman’s labored voice. “It’s not working.”

Everyone freezes.

Jason is the first to respond. He’s frankly surprised he’s the first one, actually, considering how he died. Still, the order barked by Batman to get clear is heeded by Nightwing, who tries to haul Robin away. Red is running in the same direction as Jason, probably trying to get to Bruce as well, and Nightwing eventually follows.

“B, get out of there,” Nightwing yells.

“Too big. This thing explodes, it will take out the park and anything nearby. Stay away from it.”

“Too late,” Jason drawls, his eyes falling on where Batman is crouched over a lump on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Batman hisses as Jason drops the gun slung over his back to pull desperately at the wires.

“Trying to stop the explosion, what does it look like? I know bombs. Just give me a couple minutes.”

“We don’t have that sort of time,” Batman replies.

Jason freezes, looking at the clock. His breath catches when he sees it’s well under a minute, steadily ticking past twenty-five seconds. He tries to force his hands to move, to sort the wires until he finds the right one, but all he can think of is the last time he saw a timer like this one. He can feel the burn as it licked over his skin, the agony that crawled over his skin and set it on fire.

Someone is pushing him away with rough hands. Jason vaguely registers that it’s _Bruce_ , the Batman himself, pushing him into the waiting hands of Dick, who grabs Jason in one arm and Damian in the other, ushering Tim along in front of him as they _run_.

Jason yells hoarsely, trying to twist around, to see his _father_ and yell at him to run too, to get out before he dies the same fate as Jason.

Bruce is turning back around to face the bomb as a vibration rips the ground and the sky lights up a brilliant orange.

And then Jason is falling.

\---

He doesn’t expect to wake up.

He doesn’t remember how he got here.

Blinking his eyes open, Jason only sees darkness. He feels for his eyes, worried for a moment that he’s gone blind, but feels a crunch underneath his gloves, and realizes that his helmet is completely smashed.

Yanking it off, Jason immediately tries to breathe in, only to choke on ash and smoke as he rolls over, planting his face in the sand.

Sand?

Jason struggles to sit up in the shifting material, raising his torso to the sky as he notices his arm is bleeding again. Damn.

He’s more surprised to see that around him, the rest of the Bats are sprawled in uncomfortable positions. Nightwing, Robin, and Red are all in his immediate vicinity, with Spoiler and Cass (what the hell, when did _they_ get close to the bomb? Blondie was taking a few days off, and Cass wasn’t even supposed to be in _town_ ) about twenty-five yards away from Jason.

Jason whips around to look for Batman, dread and despair welling up in his chest. Bruce can’t be dead, but he was way too close to the bomb. His armor is good, but it won’t protect him against a bomb in that range.

A groan from the sand to his left sets Jason’s heart racing. Twisting his head, which elicits a very unpleasant sting from his arm, Jason sees a black lump stirring, before he sees the darkness of the cowl rising against the sky, stumbling toward them.

“Jay,” the figure says, falling to his knees ten feet from him. “You’re alive.”

Squinting, Jason doesn’t dare to hope… but it’s _him_ , and apparently the Batman can survive a fucking explosion where Jason can’t.

“How?” Jason breathes.

Behind Jason, a cough. “J’son,” a voice murmurs weakly. “Look.”

An unsteady finger from the Replacement is directed at a dark splotch on the ground, an infinite pool of darkness oozing over the uneven surface. The sand around it shifts and slips into the hole, in which a glimmering reflection of a city rises, glowing against the void.

“That’s… Gotham,” Jason says slowly. “That’s Gotham.”

Glancing around the sand, just now noting the empty expanse of absolutely _nothing_ but dust and waking family members, Jason droops back to the ground in exhaustion.

“Where the hell are we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a summary:  
> \- Jason explains what's gone down in the last few days. There was a major Arkham breakout (which he couldn't participate in due to his injury), which is also what had Bruce and Dick so busy (Tim didn't even know there was an Arkham breakout because he was too focused on work). After the breakout, Jason goes on patrol, comes home, and doesn't take off his helmet. This is what first allowed him to pick up on the glow from Indigo.
> 
> \- Jason gets Tim from the Manor so they can test out one of the guns from the failed stakeout a few chapters ago. They go to a warehouse in the middle of the night, because that's when they felt like it, and shoot a pallet. The pallet disintegrated, and then disappeared. Red sparks were involved, and when one touched Jason, it hurt.
> 
> \- Jason and Tim get pulled to Robinson Park to help with a bomb. Everyone else shows up (for some reason) and Jason is confused as to why, but then Bruce says he can't defuse the bomb. Said bomb would destroy the park and possibly the surrounding area. Jason tries to defuse it but freaks out because he remembers his death. Bruce pushes him away and everyone begins running, except Bruce, because he's too close and doesn't have time.
> 
> \- Everyone (including Cass and Steph, who showed up at the park unbeknownst to Jason) wake up in a desert. Everyone (including Bruce) somehow survived the explosion, even though they all should have been in the blast radius. But, surprise! Gotham is now an image in a puddle of sludge on the ground and they have no idea where they are.
> 
> Okay, that was a super long summary. I hope that helped for people, let me know if this is something people appreciate and I can keep doing it.
> 
> Literally everyone needs a break, a hug, and a vacation. They are all way too stressed. This also got WAY darker than I thought it would be... sorry about that, everyone. This is probably the darkest it will get. Please take care of yourselves and reach out to anyone if you need to.
> 
> I promise I will tell you what prank Jason pulled in this chapter. It actually happened to me once, although it wasn't as much of a prank as it was an accident... BUT STILL. Prime prank material.
> 
> I was going to leave this on a cliffhanger after the explosion, but I since Bruce isn't actually dead, I didn't want to freak anyone out. He's kind of important to the story.


	8. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is exhausted. Why is he so exhausted? Where _is_ he?
> 
> These are all very good questions that no one has the answer to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is my first time trying to write from Dick's POV, so we'll see how this goes. I haven't actually proofread this yet (will hopefully get to it later), so if you find any typos or grammatical errors, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for the comments and kudos, they make my day!
> 
> Warning for this chapter: swearing (Jason), very light fight scenes

The first thing Dick feels when he wakes up is panic. It feels like he’s inhaling thousands of tiny shards of glass. As terror overwhelms him, he tries to fight back, to get a good inhale of air, but there is nothing.

_Is this how Jason felt when he woke up in his coffin?_

Before Dick can pass out again, a rough hand grabs him and hauls him up, and thank all things good, into fresh air. Coughing and spluttering, the panic wears off and Dick slumps to the ground, energy completely drained.

Beside him, Steph is huddled on the ground, her cape drawn around her. Dick wants to reach out, to ask her how she’s doing, but the exhaustion drags him down and his jaw feels sealed shut.

“We’re not in Gotham, obviously,” comes a thin, wheezy voice.

Said voice belongs to Tim, his _brother_. It feels like it’s been eons since he’s seen him, even though he was at the Manor recovering from his botched stakeout not too long ago. Still, he didn’t even get the chance to ask Tim how he was doing, not with the Arkham breakout and Damian’s injury making him more stir-crazy than usual.

Even if he’s not on great grounds with Tim, he’s still got to try to steer their relationship back to steadier waters. Dick hoped that it would be easy, but Tim’s logic side seems to be interfering greatly with his attempts.

Regardless, Dick thinks he should have checked in, considering the state he’s in. His cape is in tatters not too far from him, and his eyes look dazed as he runs tests with his gauntlet.

Dick has to strain to see what he’s looking at, and he only catches a glimpse of the void in the ground before his muscles give out and he crashes to the ground again. Sure. A void in the ground, and they’re in the middle of a desert. Dick can work with that.

Around them are quite a few of the Bats in various states. Other than Steph, Dick can reasonably reach Damian without too much trouble, so he crawls over to him, letting out his nerves in a sigh when he realizes he’s… sleeping. Passed out?

Shaking the confusion off, Dick twists his head around to meet a face _way_ too close to his own. Steph, of course.

“You’re not supposed to move too fast, too early,” she tells him, bundling herself up further under her cape as a gust of wind rips across the sand, spraying some into Dick’s face.

Dick pauses, trying to discern what that means. “What?” he eventually says, once he realizes Steph is still staring at him.

“Uh, I’m not exactly sure why. Big Bats and Red are doing their science-y stuff and I didn’t want to get involved cause, you know, it’s cold, plus they told me not to get up and I feel like a herd of elephants just ran me over, so I’m good.”

Dick stares. Okay, so Steph is probably tired too, or Dick is just not processing things. A herd of elephants… oh, he was in an explosion, wasn’t he? There was heat, and he was running, and then he woke up here.

A shadow blocks out the little light coming from the moon. Uh… moon. Why isn’t there sun in a desert?

“We’ve jumped dimensions,” Bruce informs the two of them stoically. “We’re not sure exactly _where,_ though, and the way we got here is destroying anything that passes through from our direction.”

“Explain that, but slower and in simpler terms,” Steph demands.

Bruce sighs. “The portal is a one-way door. We’re not sure where we are or where the other door is.”

“See? Not hard.”

Tim shuffles up behind him. “We think the portal here is making us weak. Still unclear how, but when you wake up, you’ll feel exhausted for a while. Try not to exert yourself too much.”

“Okay,” Dick says, trying to get his bearings. His time as Batman refreshed the habit of evaluating every situation and making the best plan.

Tim blinks at him before his eyes shift to Damian behind him, and an indecipherable emotion flits across his face before a cool mask of indifference is slammed down over his features. Okay. That can be dealt with later, there are more pressing issues.

“We need to find shelter, food, water. Our supplies won’t last long and it’s freezing. Do we need to worry about protecting this portal?” Dick asks, the need for a plan pushing away the haze in his mind.

“I buried a tracker next to it and covered it with sand. Not sure how that works, but something to be investigated,” Tim reports.

“Hey! Look what I found!” another voice interrupts.

Dick whips around, cracking his neck in surprise, because Jason is running at them, triumphantly holding up a gun. A very cracked and deformed gun, but it’s definitely a gun.

“A gun,” Dick says flatly. He really wishes Jason would calm down about that.

“Not any gun,” Bruce replies, reaching for it and frowning when Jason yanks it away.

“Replacement,” Jason says coolly, handing it to him instead. “Wanna tell me what looks different ‘bout it?”

Tim takes it, turning it over in his hands. He hesitates when he runs his hand over the stock, then reaches for his glove and scans it.

“No red,” he mutters, eyes watching the readouts. “No energy readouts. It looks like a regular gun again, barring the fact that the makeup is still probably the same weird stuff from before.”

“That’s not all,” Jason continues, holding out… a piece of wood?

Dick is confused. Based on Steph’s exasperated sigh beside him, she is too. Dick wraps his arms around himself as the wind picks up again, sending a chill down the neck of his uniform, despite the temperature control.

Tim’s hands still. “Is that it?”

“Uh-huh. Only piece that made it, from the looks of things.”

“Okay… so, the energy… made something jump dimensions… no?” Tim trails off.

Dick sighs too, turning to Bruce, who is still hovering behind Tim. Bruce eyes him back, the slight downturn to his lips telling Dick that he’s not really sure what’s going on here, and that he’s worried.

“So, while they do… science, we should work on a plan. If the portal is no use to us, we can leave it. Hopefully no one will come for it, but that’s a risk we’ll have to take. We should see if we can find some cover. It’s _freezing_ out here, even with the suits,” Dick decides.

Bruce hesitates, then nods, throwing a glance at Damian. “Take him?”

Dick nods, looping an arm underneath Damian’s shoulders and tries to lift him up.

And can’t.

“I don’t think so, B,” Dick manages weakly. His arms feel like jelly.

Bruce shuffles around Tim and Jason before kneeling down and picking Damian up himself. He jerks his head, looking over Dick’s head, and another figure is hauling Dick up off the ground.

“Tired,” a voice says next to his ear.

“Cass?” Dick says, trying to twist to see her. “When did you get here?”

"Later,” she replies, nudging Steph to stand up.

“Hood. Red,” Batman growls. “Quit standing to the side and get a move on.”

Jason flips him off. Tim is still staring at his hands, muttering as he turns the gun over. Dick looks on, something twinging in his chest, as he notices Jason putting his hands on Tim’s shoulders to steer him forward. They're... friendly. Which, whoa, Dick didn't know that they were on good terms these days. Dick doubts he could do that with Tim without him thinking Dick had an ulterior motive.

“Gotta get moving, Replacement,” Jason sneers.

Bruce tilts his head back in exasperation, and Dick thinks he and Cass are the only ones to see that. He doesn’t broadcast his emotions much, but it’s not too hard if you know what you’re looking for. Besides, ever since he returned, he seems to struggle a bit to wrangle down his _feelings_ behind the mask.

“Got the tracker?” Bruce asks.

Jason nudges Tim, who gives a halfhearted wave. “That’s the best you’re gonna get, old man,” Jason says, before marching on ahead of them with Tim.

Bruce just shakes his head and gestures at them to follow.

\---

They’ve been walking for hours, and the sun hasn’t come up yet. About an hour in, Damian began to stir, and he’s now hobbling along after them after declaring he didn’t need any assistance.

Steph has broken off and is looking around her, frowning at something in the distance. Dick is far more exhausted than he was when they started, and is still propped up by Cass. Tim has fallen behind them, and Jason has stayed by his side.

Dick and Bruce both raise an eyebrow at this, but Dick decides to deal with that. The weariness has settled in his bones at this point, and he won’t waste energy on things he can deal with later.

Other than the exhaustion and the cold, nothing has gone wrong as of yet. So, of course, something does.

The first shot hits Jason.

It happens so fast that it takes Dick a minute to realize what happened. One second there’s an ear-splitting _CRACK_ , and the next, Jason is kneeling on the ground with a steady stream of curses leaving his mouth.

Cass pushes Dick at Damian before whirling around to search for their attacker. Jason stumbles back upright, blood oozing from where the bullet hit him in the leg.

“Fuck,” Jason says, stumbling toward Dick.

Tim, thankfully, has stopped staring at the gun and joined Steph as they, too, search for their attacker.

“Bastards got me in the _same leg as the asshole after the stakeout_ ,” Jason hisses, yanking out a bandage from an emergency kit (where he got it from, Dick doesn’t know)

More shots ring out, and Dick can hear Bruce growl. The growl that says _that hurt_.

“Damn,” Jason continues, wrapping his leg before gritting his teeth and hauling himself upright and stumbling into the fray as well.

Dick has to fight to hold Damian down. He’s okay to begin walking around, yes, but he’s exhausted like Dick and the last thing they need is for him to get injured by going too hard, too early.

He’s young. Tim and Jason know what they’re doing, don’t they?

The sounds of the fight get closer. Dick hauls himself into a sitting position, pulling out his escrima sticks in case he needs to fight.

“Kill them!” a voice howls across the empty desert, much too close for comfort.

A sickening crunch follows, and Dick whirls around to see Jason holding a gun, standing over a body.

“Did you just kill him?” Dick demands.

Jason shrugs. “Pistol whipped him. Dunno if his skull is fractured, but I don’t wanna deal with a moody Batman if it’s finally your turn to die. You’re also a sittin’ duck back here, asshole.”

“Damian is…” Dick trails off as he realizes Damian _isn’t_ with him.

Jason jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Back there? You’re way more outta it if you can’t pay attention.”

“I’m fine,” Dick retorts.

Jason snorts and walks away. Bruce reappears next to him, giving the body in front of him a frown, before grabbing him and letting Dick lean his weight against him.

"We have to keep moving,” Bruce tells everyone. “They were trying to kill us, and we’re vulnerable if we stay.”

Dick bites down a whine as he forces his exhausted muscles to move.

\---

“Well,” Steph says, “I guess I can cross off being on a wanted poster from my bucket list.”

Cass flicks her on the arm.

“What? It’s cool, although that’s probably why we got attacked out there.”

“Out there” refers to the desert, Dick supposes, glancing up at the enormous billboard. After another hour of walking, lights appeared in the distant gloom. After the attack, everyone stood on their toes, waiting for another surprise.

The haphazardly painted versions of themselves on the billboard seemingly glare down at them. Shuddering, Dick looks away from the red x’s painted over their eyes, choosing instead to take in information on the town.

“Huh. Looks like we all exist in this universe,” Steph continues.

Bruce groans silently, and Dick would laugh, but he’s not really feeling in the mood.

Priorities. “Who here has non-bat stuff they might be able to wear to go get new clothes? We’ve gotta dump our suits.”

Steph raises her hand. “I can go.”

Cass nods too, and they both change out of their suits while leaving their base layers on. Steph returns to them, holding her hand out expectantly.

“Uh, money?” she says.

“I don’t think credit cards will work across dimensions,” Dick replies.

“Cash, then. You’re a crazy millionaire, B, you gotta be one of those weird people that carries around a lot of cash to give to random strangers.”

Bruce sighs before handing her a couple of hundreds. “Don’t do anything suspicious.”

Cass gives him a thumbs up before they head off. Bruce sighs before turning to Damian, making sure his injury hasn’t been aggravated by his early return to combat. Dick leans back, sighing as well, before deciding that he can probably take a quick nap.

\---

Everyone looks like they want to boil their eyes in pickle juice instead of doing this. Dick sighs before beginning to cover the pit they dug to stash their suits in. Bruce’s eye twitches as the sand falls over the millions of dollars buried in a hole in the middle of a different universe.

“Look, it has to be done,” Dick finally says, attempting to break the awkward silence. “We can’t go on with targets on our backs. As long as we have trackers on this stuff, _secured_ signals, we should be able to get it back.”

“And as long as no one else digs it up,” Tim replies quietly.

“This thing is tiny,” Jason complains as he waves the arms of his too-small jacket around.

“Then you can freeze,” Steph retorts. “Take it or leave it.”

Jason shuts up. Bruce sighs and takes over filling the hole as Dick sits back down, trying to catch his breath. He hates feeling so weak, especially when they need all the help they can get.

As they return to town ( _Desolation Gorge_ , the welcome sign helpfully offers), Dick tries to walk a little more on his own weight. He stares down at his feet, putting one in front of the other, before he crashes into Bruce’s solid back.

He opens his mouth to ask them what’s wrong, before he catches the look on Bruce’s face (Dick shakes off how weird it is to see him without the cowl now). He feels Jason tense as well, and Dick remains confused.

“Well, well, well,” Jason breathes, “looks like Stabby McQueen is here too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... poor dick is very tired from universe travel and really needs a break for a bit. he's also very much just trying to forget about all of his problems until he has the energy to think about them. which. he will, eventually. just not right now.
> 
> again. this is my first time writing Dick's pov so im not really sure how this turned out, but hey, we'll just go from here. again. very tired and needs a break so he may be a bit ooc while he tries to deal with the insane amount of information i decided to throw at all of them. also, ive also never written damian, cass, and steph, so they're all probably a bit weird here.
> 
> i would also like to clarify that it is nighttime. the sun has not come out yet (uh oh...)
> 
> chapter alternatively known as: all the bats are very done with dimension travel and just wanna go home. also, explosions make everyone suddenly a lot more civil to each other.
> 
> plz let me know if you guys enjoy hearing from other pov's. as i mentioned above, i haven't written much in other pov's but i can try if you guys enjoy it!


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